


Psychotherapy

by ScriptoremAlto



Category: Bleach, ichiruki - Fandom
Genre: AU in which Ichigo is a doctor and is 27 years old already, All human AU without shinigamis and stuff, F/M, this is an old unfinished work I had in FF.net and I got the urge to finish this now lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-25 16:04:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13838235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScriptoremAlto/pseuds/ScriptoremAlto
Summary: After a long day of hearing my patients' issues, I wake up and find a half-naked woman on my bed, staring at me like she had known me forever. Who is she? I don't know. All I know is she changed my life in many ways.





	1. Pawned

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! So this was a story in fanfiction.net that I left behind. Well, because I stopped with Bleach for a loooooong time as the fandom was kinda toxic. But well, I thought I really should finish this because I think I owe the IchiRuki fandom something for being a support group for a long time. Anyway, here we go! :)

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_Time is such a cruel thing,_

_But love is even crueler._

_I may have known her for only a few days,_

_But she turned me to another person._

_A better me._

==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==

Hi, I am Kurosaki Ichigo, 27 years old, a psychiatrist at my own clinic. Actually, it also serves as my home—I live in this three-story structure without any other living soul but me.

Why, you think?

I also think about that sometimes. Why do I live alone? Because I  _want_  to be alone. I  _need_  to be alone.  _But why?_ You may be thinking about that again.

Let's go to my family.

First and foremost, my dad, Kurosaki Isshin, is a doctor at Karakura General Hospital. Don't get me wrong by saying this though—he's a good provider, and my childhood was good because he was goofy and (excessively) happy most of the time. I have two sisters—twins—named Yuzu and Karin, which are both living under my dad's custody as of the moment. The last thing I heard is that Yuzu's taking off with her culinary career, and Karin, in her soccer team. We were all happy together. Well, our house is always noisy and stuff (you get the picture), but we were happy.

Except that my mom had to die.

Kurosaki Masaki is the sweetest woman I have ever known. She always put us first even though it hurts her, and maybe that is the reason why we only knew she had ovarian cancer when it was already on its last stage. She kept it a secret, even from dad, just for the purpose of not being an inconvenience to any of us.

Her death wasn't an easy thing for us. Yuzu didn't stop crying for months, Karin didn't want to talk, and I didn't know what to do in order to forget that rainy night when my mom breathed her last in the hospital. Dad, although he was the most hurt, kept smiling at us and encouraged us like nothing ever happened—and that is why I hated him. Back then I cannot understand how he could still smile even though mom was gone, and I really despised him.

I even got to the point where I lost my faith in him and blamed him for everything. I promised to myself that when I graduate college, I'll live away from him, which exactly brings us back to the fact that I am living alone in this building.

Most of the time, during the days, my patients go in and out of the first floor in order to share their psychological and emotional problems with me. I am not an expert, though. I can only give some tips for improvement, but it still depends on my patients if they will follow me. Anyway, the second and third floors are my refuge.

No one has ever stepped inside of this except me, my friends, and my sisters.

The truth is, I never had a girlfriend, so it's just me here. It's by choice, though. I want to enjoy my life first before rushing into things like 'love', or 'commitment'. It's just not my kind of thing.

And then came this day, November 2, 2008, Sunday—a day I cannot seem to tear away from my mind.

==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==

**Session 1: Pwned**

==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==

After a long day of hearing my patients' issues, I fell on my bed and buried my face on my pillows. It's like this every day. Like you're carrying your own burdens, and then my patients share their problems and place more stones on my backpack.

I fall asleep really fast but when my throat itched, my eyes automatically flew open—I looked at the clock and it was already 2 a.m. Still groggy, I aimed to get up to get a swig of water downstairs, but something restrained my movements.

I blinked in the darkness and sat up.

An arm was wrapped around my waist and it trailed to the other side of the bed. I blinked again thinking that I was dreaming lucidly, but the image didn't disappear. I followed where the mystery limb lead to and instead, I was brought face-to-face with a pale face whose eyes were very much open and were gawking at me.

A scream unwillingly escaped my throat in defense. "WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK--?!"

 

Before I knew it, I was on my footing, clinging to the baseball bat which was always resting on my bedside. I tapped frantically on my lampshade to reveal the trespasser--but what welcomed me was a half-naked, raven-haired woman, lying on my bed and smiling expectantly as if she had known me for years.

Well… I can say I didn't see  _only_ her face. I mean, she was wearing a blue button-down with half of the top buttons open, revealing her, ah… black, lacy,sexy—undergarment. Her bottoms weren't bad either, they were matching the top, but for a second I thought they were much thinner. 

Not that I was staring _intently_ , but she didn't have any pants on. I held on my bat even tighter.

"Hey," she said coolly and waved her hand. "I didn't mean to cause a ruckus."

"Wha--Who are you? Why are you on my bed?" Acid was quickly rising in my voice. Maybe she was sent by Renji as a joke? I remember him always telling me to _screw_ around. "If you're sent my any of my friends, just get outta here."

She chuckled and threw me a glance that annoyed me even more. "Friends? No. And why are  _you_ staring at _my_ legs?"

The statement caught me off-guard. Heat crept up my face and my head automatically jerked on my left. I swear I specifically intended to look angry.

"Shut up! Just get off of my bed! Take some money if you wish and go, or I'll call the cops."

She shook her head. "Sheeesh. I am not a thief, bakamono. I was just borrowing your clothes."

And that explains why the blue button-down she was wearing looks highly familiar to me. Because they were mine.  _Damn this woman._

"And who told you to wear my clothes!"

"You were asleep, duh. I was respectful enough not to wake you." She stretched her legs on the bed, but her eyes were slightly glaring. "And be thankful that I didn't wear your pants, because I don't like pants in general."

"Ah! So it's me to blame now! You're trespassing on my home, stealing my clothes, and then complain about my fashion sense! Really, now. I should call the police!"

I went to the drawer where my phone was and started punching in the hotline when I heard her chuckle. I threw my glare upon her direction, but the unashamed woman was wearing a rather smug look on her face. I double-took her expression. Dammit, what's with  _that_  face?

"You don't have to call the police. I mean no harm."

"And why should I believe you?"

 

She smiled again, but a lot softer this time. Not seductively, but warm. It felt really sincere. "Just trust me. I just badly need a place to stay." She raised her hands up like in a double pledge, the purple in her eyes easily attempting to convince me further. I wasn't aware when or why it happened, but I found myself letting go of the tension in my shoulders as well as the makeshift weapon that I was holding. Something in her attitude calmed me down without even trying--and admittedly, it was half-annoying.

I sighed exasperatedly as I rubbed the bridge of my nose--she sat on the mattress and titled her head in what appeared to be curiosity and relief, maybe. "You haven't answered any of my questions properly. Or at least thank me for not whacking you in the head, you woman."

"What if I refuse to answer? I told you to trust me."

"Well you know, nobody trusts a random stranger barging in their homes, the kind that steals clothes and shares the bed."

The woman laughed yet again, and this time, she slid down to sit on the edge of the bed with her creamy, luscious legs crossed. I noticed that they were fairly long--and creamy--but at the same time she was also kinda tiny.

 _Is she a… whore?_ I thought.

"Hey, I'm not promiscuous. Not a whore." The oddly placed bang in her forehead swung left and right as she did the same motion with her head. "As I said, I just need a temporary place. I had an emergency--"

"--And what is that emergency?"

"It's a secret." A secret of course. If she wasn't a thief then probably she was a spy from the government, I thought. Who knows? They get pretty Big Brother-ish these days. I had to press on.

"Hn. And how did you get here?"

She rolled her eyes and pointed at my balcony. "Duh, I climbed. And your windows were open."

"Whoa, whoa, that's--" I blurted out of amazement. How many women could climb up three stories high, not to mention in her undies!

"Yeah, I know. I am amazing, right? I'm the first woman you know that climbs up three stories high."

"How are you sure you're the first?" She was, in fact the first, if I'm not gonna count the characters in the movies that I've been watching.

"…You're pretty transparent." She said, her eyes meeting mine. At that moment, I felt nothing but frustration. I was a psychiatrist and I should be the one studying her, but it was the other way 'round. There's this realization that no matter how much I look straight in her eyes, or how I try to simulate her gestures, I cannot fathom what she'll do and say next.

This was new to me—usually, I could tell whatever my patients are thinking in just a glance. But she was… different. 

At that precise moment, I knew I was being drawn unconsciously towards this woman I barely know. In a way, it was _frightening_ and impressive at the same time.

 

"Give me back my clothes."

There was a moment of silence of just staring, and that's when her hand went to my shirt and started unbuttoning the remaining buttons, showing off more of her skin. 

"Alright then."

My palms slapped on my eyes in panic. "Matte-matte! Why are you stripping in front of me? Are you crazy?!"

"You're not the type to do anything nasty." I could hear her nonchalance. 

Of course I could only assume what her expression, but I knew she had got rid of my shirt completely  _because I heard a thud and a soft thing landed at my feet._

"Hey, why are you so uptight? It's not like I am naked."

"Shut up! Put it back on!"

"Ah?How d'you know I got rid of it? You're peeking on the spaces between your fingers."

I felt steam coming out of my ears. "I am not!"

"Then you should remove those. I am telling you, I am not naked. I have my underwear inta—"

"--Just! Put it back on—"

"No, listen to me, you dummy. I am not naked." Then I heard her footsteps approaching me, and cold hands gripping mine and yanked them away from my face.

"Stop it you—what are you trying to do--" I paused to look at her, and I saw what she meant by  _not naked._ Of course. She had my sheets covering her body. Why didn't I think of that?

"See." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I am not naked. Blankets have other uses, idiot."

My knees buckled for a moment, a thousand thoughts running through my head. Yes, I admit. I have never seen a woman in a highly  _provocative_ outfit, and the mere thought of seeing one straight in her undies is so…

_Wrong?_

_Sexy?_

_Only hormones and you're imagining things?_

My head suggested me. I actually picked the third one, because it's the most logical. I mean, as a psychiatrist, I know what  _sexual tensions_ mean. But that's only because this I haven't been stuck in this kind of situation after 27 long, careful years.

"Uh-huh…" I just ran out of words as I sat on the other side of the bed. I had both hands on my head, trying to figure out what was really happening. Maybe I just needed to take care of  _it_ as soon as possible. Maybe my hormones were driving me crazy.

I mean no woman wearing undies would climb up three stories high, borrow your clothes, and take your interest. No way. This stuff happened only in porn movies.

Not that I watched one.

 

"Gods, I never knew I am this  _tension-ed_  inside."

My eyes darted back to her direction to check if she was just a figment of my imagination. Nope. She was still there. I had the impression that she was expecting me to offer her the bed, but I was so tired to actually do anything else. The bed adjusted well under me when I collapsed on top of it, I closed my eyes and attempted to block out any other thought. I was thinking that if I ignored her, she would just go. A few moments later and the light went off and the bed slightly creaked on the other side. 

"Thanks," I heard her murmur. And then something soft pressed on my forehead before I completely dozed off.

 

 

.

.

.

I woke up from the loud beeping noise coming from my phone. I didn't have any problems with waking up and being disoriented though—in my childhood I had to learn how to be alert once I opened my eyes because every day my pops would bust in my room and try to kill me with his butterfly kicks. Luckily I had learned something from my taekwondo classes and I had a counterattack to whatever the mad man would do to me.

After several failed attempts, I was finally able to grab my phone to turn the alarm off. In the process, I caught sight of my blankets cast down on the floor. Then it hit me.

 _Oh yeah,_ I told myself.  _Was it a strange dream? Sexual tension?_

The blanket was back on my bed after throwing it distractedly. Thinking of a way to ease the tight feeling in my gut, I went straight to my bathroom and… well… I stripped down and turned on the tub faucet.

 _Good baths in the morning._ I thought, slipping to my bathtub. Actually, I was thinking of a more effective way a release, but what the heck. Baths are good no matter what.

"After that, you might want to get breakfast?" A low feminine voice came from the door.

"Ah, yeah. I think that's good." I answered without thinking, before realizing what really was happening.

I jerked my head towards the door and found a raven-haired woman leaning on its post and a squeak involuntarily found its way out of my throat.

Oh shit. It wasn't a freaking dream after all. She was _still_ in my flat.

"Y-you! H-how did you—" My hands automatically covered my crotch _._ "What are you doing here!"

"You're quite forgetful." She grinned and placed a hand on her hips. "And don't cover anything, I can't see it even without your hands." Then she turned her back on me and left the bathroom.

"H-hey! You fool! Where are you going?" Too late. The stranger was gone and I hear her light footsteps on the wooden staircases.

I swear I almost had my first major heart attack back there.

.

.

.

I found her in the kitchen (she was still wearing my shirt, and a pair of my favorite boxers to my grimace), her back leant against the marble counter. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her eyes were focused to me as I descended the stairs, and there was an expression on her face like she won some contest.

"Hey." She simply said, gesturing over the table. I was taken aback.

"Woah." My feet carried me faster than usual, the scent of maple and bacon overpowering and taking control of them. This was _definitely_ what a guy wants early in the morning.

"Gotta admit, this is good."

"I know, I made them." She went forward and sat on a chair on the table side across me, eyes still persistent on my face. "I'm good at cooking."

And she was right. In my mouth were the most delicious bites of strawberry-maple pancakes I have ever tasted. That plus the crunchy bacon. Plus the crisp black coffee.

I nodded, but I raised a brow at her. "This doesn't change things. You still trespassed."

"I can't say I'm sorry, your place is nice. But, I just needed this for an emergency, Ichigo."

"What is your emergency, anyway?" Then I remembered another important thing that I missed on the first question. "And who are you? How d'you know my name?"

"Sheesh. I saw it on the certificates on the first floor."

"You went on my clinic?"

"Yeah. I just peeked. But I didn't steal anything." She bit on the pancake pierced by her fork, her face contorting on a thoughtful look. "Ichigo. Your name's nice. It means strawberry."

"Yeah, I mean no!" I snapped at her, dropping the bacon I was about to bite. "Why do you roam around my house without my permission. And my name, it means the one who protects!"

She rolled her eyes. "Like I said, sorry. And. I like strawberry more. Or I can call you carrot-top if you want to—"

"HELL NO! JUST ICHIGO!"

"Fine, fine,  _I-chi-go._ " She sighed and became silent for a while as we ate our breakfast.

My mind was never at peace though. She was like a big jigsaw in front of me that I have to solve without the original pattern. The only thing I know about her is that she cooks well and she looks good on my clothes. Not to mention she wasn't a  _bad egg_ to begin with.

I cleared my throat to speak. "So, for the nth time, who are you? You seem to avoid the question."

She stared at me for a moment before grinning. "I am nobody."

"Be serious."

"Geez. You're so uptight—"

"Answer me. I want to help you on whatever your emergency is." 

My stomach churned when she tilted her head and leaned forward. It was the first time I was seeing her up close. Despite the paleness of her skin and the stray bang on her face… she was more than gorgeous by any standard. 

"My name is Rukia." It was a half whishper. "I need a place to stay for a few days. That's all I can tell you."

I pressed on. "Why? Don't you have any relatives?"

"No." She bit her lip, slightly hesitant. "I am an orphan." She looked away and chose to look down on her hands. That gesture meant she wouldn't answer anything personal again.

"Why did you choose me though?" I found myself leaning closer to her across the table instead. "Pretty sure there are many opened windows elsewhere."

Rukia shrugged. "I don't know, I just picked this. It was a clinic to begin with. Maybe someone was charitable enough."

"And what if I was an opportunist?"

"I know you're not. Besides, I know how to fight."

I grinned at her coincidentally at the thought of someone so tiny throwing kicks and punches. "What if I am an offender and I _happened_ to know taekwondo and aikido?"

"Well…" She started slow with an expression that I can't read, and the next thing I knew was my back was pressed against the cold hardwood floor and Rukia was pinning my body with her legs. Her hands were on the opposite sides of my head, holding my arms in restrain.

"…I know Judo." Then she leaned in and whispered in my ear, "I am the best on the mat."

Blood rushed up to my cheeks, not to mention in other  _parts_  of my body, but before I could say anything, she was up again and a few feet away from me. How did she do that so fast?

"You _can't_ offend me."

I got up, dusting off my PJs with a scowl on my face. "Shut up. It was just a scenario."

"No, _you_ shut up. You are so uptight. That's why you don't have a girlfriend."

I glared at her even more for being so freaking instinctive. "How do you know?"

"You always blush when I am near. You get  _roused_  when I am near."

"That's not true! I do not blush—" But warmth is creeping on my cheeks again.

"Really? Look at you."

"I am not!"

"Oh gods." She titled her head and narrowed her amethyst eyes at me like she was accusing me of something horrible. "If you're not so stuck up then come upstairs with me Ichigo and let's have some good se—"

"FINE! FINE!" I literally growled at the petite woman, but she didn't seem fazed. I sighed as I sank back to my seat.

"Fine. I do not have any girlfriend." There were a few teenage flings, but."None since birth. Can't afford it."

"Yeah, I know." There was an unashamed pat on my hand in a feigned sympathy. "Do you want me to get you one?"

"What! Get me  _one_! Are you a pimp, Rukia?"

"No, of course not. Let's just think of it this way." She raised a finger and pressed it on her chin like she was lecturing a child. "I teach you how to get a girl in exchange of letting me stay here for a couple of days. How's that?"

"You gotta be kidding, I don't need that."

"Oh, I know you do. You _need_ it—"

"I do not!"

"—and you know I don't have money to pay you—"

"Then get a job!"

"—and it's the only way I could repay you for letting me stay here—"

"Who said you could stay here!" I slammed a hand on the table. "I don't know you, Rukia. Why am I going to let you stay here? Give me a reason."

She became still for a while, and what I could hear is only my puff of breaths for being so pissed off. I forgot what I was angry about the next second when she touched my cheek.

"Because you are _kind._ That's the type of man you are, Ichigo."

Rukia then rose from her seat and proceeded to the stairs without glancing back at me. My feet were kept grounded while my eyes watching as her figure disappeared into the hallway, and my hand grazing the warm spot where her fingers were moments ago.

It was an epiphany--I realized I had been defeated.

For not being to react nor object when her skin touched mine, albeit for the shortest time.

For staring at her retreating figure with a funny feeling in my gut.

 

Rukia was  _really_ something.

 

Something I never knew I wanted, or needed.


	2. Drawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo can't pinpoint the reason behind his actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's me again. :) So I’ve rewritten Chapter 2 already. I’m listening to Rita Ora’s Lonely Together while doing this HAHA. It fits them. Enjoy, read, and review!

 

==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==

_I know what trust is._

_What I don't know is that how it works,_

_And how it makes me irrevocably drawn into her._

==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==

Rukia. I didn't know what her surname was, yet. And I didn't know why I permitted her to call me by the first name when I didn't have any idea who she really is except for the things that I’ve gathered during our fleeting interactions:

One, she's short, has raven-hair and round amethyst eyes. That and a stray bang on her face. And very attractive legs.

Two, she cooks real good food.

And three, she is a really, really, really, really  _good_  kisser. I'm serious.

==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==00==

**Session 2: Drawn**

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The last time I saw her that day was when she sashayed out of the kitchen. There was no one on my bedroom, on the clinic, or even the closet—I imagined her crawling out through the windows again, in broad daylight. Maybe he had a thing for not using ordinary doors.

The day went on as usual: I’ve eaten my lunch alone, a cup of ramen that was kind of pathetic compared to her cooking, I’ve attempted to review my patient files but I’ve dozed off in my office while playing a game in my phone, I scared off kids in the supermarket when they were pestering me about my hair.

However, there was a nagging voice at the back of my head that was making me restless.

 _You're disappointed that she left._ It said.

_You were hoping that she stays for long, but she left._

I cannot do anything but grunt at my thoughts—given that she was a gorgeous woman and a witty talker, I had no idea as to who the woman was, so there was no way that I should develop a dependence to her in such a short time.

 Who in the right mind would be disappointed if a stranger that suddenly came has disappeared as fast as they came?

_Because she touched you._

Urgh. The lone reason even makes it worse. It was as if I was desperate for human contact, the kind of man who hasn’t touched anyone

  
  


The day passed pretty fast, thankfully, despite being a Sunday. It was already 10 PM when I finished my daily bathing ritual and the bedroom was back to its cold, bachelor-esque feel like the way I had always kept it. Except that the pillows were stashed neatly and the beddings were smoothed out perfectly.

Lights flickered pleasantly when I turned on the TV—the daily news was on and it had something about a singing dog, which I wasn’t able to fully comprehend since a familiar figure came up in my peripheral.

"Hey Ichigo." Rukia was grinning when I turned my head to look. This time, she was wearing my purple  _Nice Vibe_  shirt and port shorts (which looks good on her by the way). "What up old man?"

And I knew I was supposed to lecture her on the lines of, _Why are you wearing my clothes?!_ Or _I’m not an old man!_

But…

"You midget! Where have you been?! You could at least tell me if you’re going, right?!”

Words were out before I could instruct my brain not to say anything; Rukia jeered at me as she settled beside me on the bed.

"Missed me? I just went out to do some business. Don’t worry too much."

"Shut up, tawakke.  If you get into a situation while you’re staying at my place then it _is_ my business."

I heard a chuckle and felt her stare burning in my face. My hands automatically tightened the ties of my robe. You never know what else this woman could do.

“The fuck are you staring at?”

"Hmm. I was thinking you look good with your hair down like that, did you dye it by the way? And your permanent scowl's not that bad at all. I dig that look."

"Huh? My hair’s all natural. And I’m not scowling. Stop with the nonsense.”

"Idiot. I just praised you, didn’t I? You look fine to me. It's just your attitude." She inched closer, her eyes running me through from the tips of my hair to my toenails.

"Yeah, definitely your attitude. You can't stand being close to women."

I rolled my eyes. "Ha-ha. Funny."

"Then why are you inching away from me? We're just three inches away apart earlier, Ichigo. Now there's a full foot between us."

"…" I looked at the space between us. Dang, she caught me again. I cleared my throat. "So what?"

"Geez, you need to lose that aversion to be able to find the woman of your _dreams_." A prod my forehead with some force with her little fingers. "Come on, man."

Rukia wriggled closer yet again and held my arm in place. I jerked again.

"Sheesh. You were spooked when I touched you." She shook her head. "I wonder…"

"You wonder what?" I glanced at her deep-thought expression. Then her face drew nearer, so close that I could see how thick the strands of her lashes were.

Then I felt something soft pressed in my lips.

_Gah! She's kissing you!_

_Oi! You're being kissed!_

_Bastard! Respond!_

My mind had to tell me several times before the signals reached my muscles and nerve endings.

And that's when I realized they were right. She was kissing me.

"The hell!" Panic was the first thing that washed over me when I yanked my head away. "Don’t go kissing randomly!"

"You're such a sissy. It doesn’t have to mean anything."

"But--" I stopped, not wanting to be humiliated further. Was she doing everything on purpose? "You're one to talk! Are you always forward with men?"

"Well… I had a boyfriend, Ichigo." The way she said it was matter-of-factly. "Not all people are as stuck-up as you."

"So… so are you saying you've kissed lots before?"

It was an unnecessary question, but at the same time a knot formed immediately in my chest. I ruled it out as my protective instinct—after years and years of looking after my siblings, it was a second nature. But somehow, it made me question whether I was looking at her as a _sister._

"Just one person, jackass." She held up a finger at my face. "I only had one boyfriend. And in case you're wondering, I am still very much _chaste_ , thank you."

The knot loosened in relief, I had to stop myself from smiling. "Huh…one weird woman."

"So I’ve been told." I was taken aback once more when she shifted cautiously in my lap and ran a finger in my lips. “But this wasn’t bad. I don’t usually do this, not at all.”

Her scent—I realized that she reeked of my shampoo and a little bit of, but a little bit sweeter. It hinted of lavender, or chocolates, and all other things that were making my stomach churn, things that were making me dizzy.

Perhaps the length of time that I had been alone made it difficult to resist the urge. Her breath was like a warm, cordial invitation; assumptions put aside, I knew I _had_ to feel them again.

"Don’t blame me for anything…"

And then I breached the small space that remained to crash her soft lips into mine. There was a bit of innocence in her face; my eyes were partly open to observe. It was simple—I kissed her, and she would gently kiss back, she would run her hand in my hair and I would pull her closer. But other than ordinary wanting out of loneliness or whatever it is, it surprisingly felt sincere.

 _This feels good,_ I thought.  _I like it._

It lasted for a few seconds, then she pulled away with her head down. Was she angry? Did I misread? I reached out and swept the hair out of her face—there was a serene smile Rukia’s lips and it tugged on me further when she met my stare.

"I won’t blame you for anything." She leaned against my touch and closed her lids as if savoring the moment.

Strangely enough, I felt myself drawing closer again. This time, I decided to just get lost in the kiss without thinking. Without vision, the tenderness was so much potent that I felt like melting; the silken skin in her neck, her mere presence, everything about her was just… ideal. Timely.

Soon, there was a different pace. There was urgency and boldness in her that demanded more. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, which I also did, and occasionally sucking on that succulent upper lip.

My hands unthinkably started moving on her waist, slightly squeezing them, a little gasp. It was then when she used a tiny shove against my shoulder that made my eyes snap open.

"That's…this… is enough for now." Our foreheads were leaned against each other at first, and I saw how Rukia’s brows were gathered, a hint of frustration in her flushing features. "I think I need a... break."

I could only watch her as she slid off my lap and off the bed. There was an itch to punch my own face thinking that I overdid it, and sinking feeling that this might be the last time I saw her.

"R-rukia." I called after her, anxiety thick and evident. "I’m—forget it. Forget what happened just now. We won’t do that again.”

The retreating figure stopped on her tracks and Rukia’s glance was bright at me over her shoulder—I could see her mouth curving up with assurance. "I am not going anywhere, Ichigo. Just taking a swig downstairs."

And she knew how to stay true to her promises. After a while when I was starting to dream, the other side of the bed slightly sank with her weight and a pale arm was around me once more. When I shuffled to face her, she already had closed her eyes.

“This is odd.” I whispered in her ear when I pulled her close in an embrace. There was conflict in me, on how I could trust and get intimate with a person I do not fully know yet.

But the thing is, she wasn’t unfamiliar.

Or maybe we were just both very lonely—she was running away and I wasn’t going anywhere in life. Probably this is what happens when two people were lonely _together_.

 

 

It was her face that welcomed me the next morning, her stray bang touching my nose as she stared at my face like she was watching a bird hatch. Amusement came up to me—It was the first time I saw this child-like side of hers.

"Hey, midget." I glanced at my clock and it said 6AM. "Got my breakfast ready?"

She smiled in a quirky way in return, but then her hand went to slap my forehead.

"Ow! What was that for?"

She got up and pointed a finger at me. "That's what you get for calling me a midget. And your breakfast is ready, so get out of bed, douchebag."

I was still laughing when I followed her angry stomps down the kitchen.

This time, she made some shrimp makis, fried rice, and tonkatsu—I immediately dug in. Heck, she really knew how to please a hungry, early morning stomach.

"You know, I am beginning to think that you're a famous chef elsewhere. Y’know those fancy Michelin-star restos." In my peripheral, I saw her sit beside me. I patted her head in appreciation. "Man, this is good."

"Sheesh. I don't know how you get that idea, but for your sake, I shall tell you that orphans are required to learn cooking, you dummy. I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth."

I checked if she was offended, but she was staring at her fingernails. "Well, that's disappointing. You cook better than most people I know." Her cooking reminded me of Mom, but I refused to bring that up. Rukia leaned closer and put her weight against my arm.

"You're flattering me?"

"Eh? Hell no?" I said, but too late. She already pecked my lips again.

"Thanks, Ichigo," Referring to my praise. In response, I pulled her closer and kissed her, too, being proud of myself.

"You're welcome."

Her fingers travelled from my neck to my lips, sending chills to my spine. I was under the impression that Rukia was totally doing it on purpose, and if she did initiate things again, I won’t back away. There was comfort when she was around. I didn’t flinch away. I _wanted_ her—or I will want her if she does want me.

Nothing ever happened though, because when I was about to take her in, that's when I heard loud thuds coming from the door, boxes falling and toppling over.

"I-Ichigo!" A rowdy voice erupted the room. I didn’t need to look to identify who it was.

"Renji." I marched towards him in annoyance and punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Dammit. How many times do I tell you, do not crash into my house just because you know where I hide the spare keys."

The bastard didn't answer me, dropped the keys in my PJ shirt's pocket, left the boxes in disarray, and instead walked towards a startled Rukia.

"T-this…" He faced me with his horrible hairline moving even upwards as his brows/tattoos raised. I swear I could see the hair farmers of his magnificent brows were moving double time, and by the way he looks I could already tell that he is thinking of something  _funny_.

"Ichigo… when did you get a hottie like this?"

Drools were forming on the corners of his mouth. What an ecchi.

"Shut up. That's Rukia." I rolled my eyes while picking up the boxes of mini-flashlights, batteries, and candies. I kicked him mockingly in the shin after propping the stuff on my counter.

"…Is she your girlfriend?" He stared at the still figure, and Rukia slightly looked away to hide her face in her fringes.

"Damn, you pervert. You're making her uncomfortable."

“B-but--”

“I said stop staring.”

I stood in front of where Rukia was to shield her from Renji. It was also weird, by the way, that Rukia was flinching away from him. I already drew the conclusion that she's always confident around men, but I was wrong. But then again, it was Renji. Every part of him screams _cringy_. And did I mention that he's got horrible brows and hairline?

"She's not my girlfriend." _Yet_ , I added in my thoughts. I glared at him. "And I’m pretty sure we were on the same class when we were taught not to ogle."

"Oh?" He pouted, but he followed and looked at me instead. Gods, when you see Renji pout, it's like taking a peek into a deep abyss. It was _horrible_. "Then why are you kissing?"

"Y-you saw that?"

"Yeah, I did." He nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, his lips contorting into a taunting dog-grin. "…If she's not your girlfriend then… How much do _they_ cost these days?"

What a douche.

But before I even got a retort at his statements, I heard loud whacks, a groan, several yelps, and a loud thud on the floor. When I finally got to grasp what happened. I caught sight of a Renji writhing on the floor in pain and a hand hovering over his shin protectively, and a Rukia towering over him with a very infuriated expression.

It seems like he finally hit her berserk button. I had to take note of that if I wanted to live longer and have babies on the future.

"Simpleton." She said while marching to the counter behind me. "Don’t you get the wrong idea."

Simpleton. I liked that word.

"Fine, fine! Sorry!" Renji slowly got up, fear set on his face. He sat on the chair across me with a pleading look, as if asking for some back-up. I cannot help but be proud of my—the—woman.

"It's your fault, man. You implied that she was a…" I felt something cold on my nape—Rukia's attempting to pierce a hole on the back of my head in case I said any wrong word. "… _that_."

"I didn't know… Besides, if she's not a…  _that_ and she's not your girlfriend _,_ then why are you two kissing?"

I paused and thought. He had a valid point. But well, nobody understood anything, so why qualify our relationship yet? _It’s just been 2 days…_

"Because…I like to." I said dismissively, and I heard a chuckle from behind me. Renji stared at us like we were a platter of unwanted vegetables.

"…Weirdos." He said while standing up. He slightly bowed to Rukia with an apologetic expression and then walked—I mean limped towards the door. "Got to go now, dude."

"Where are you going?" I called out to him, but I could feel there was a big grin on my face.

"Tatsuki's." He said. Tatsuki is his girlfriend, by the way. He beats up Renji like this, too, but it was a surprise for me that they got together. Their personalities were so similar that it clashed on  _every possible way_.

"Well, be careful." He nodded, still not looking back, and waved a hand. When he's gone, I aimed to cast a cast an approval glance to Rukia for beating up Renji, but I was a bit surprised when she was already staring at me with an engrossed expression.

"Rukia, you could really kick ass, you know that?"

Her grin got wider. "I'm sorry, what was his name again?"

"Ha-ha." I shook my head, realizing that she tortured the shins of the poor bastard without even knowing his name. "His name's Renji. He's one of my best friends."

"Nakama, huh. Figures," She said, then tiptoed to kiss me on the forehead. "Eat up, dummy. Your clinic opens at 8."

I nodded voluntarily, like I needed reminding of my own schedule. It amazes me so much how she does simple things that make so much impact on me, how she knows my little quirks.

A word to describe our relationship was trust. I don't know how it worked, I wasn’t the kind to give in right away, but I just couldn’t help it if I was drawn closer to her.

"I know my sched, midget." I poked her nose and got up to head towards the stairs, but she looked really cute when she scrunched and pouted. "I'm taking a bath."

"Are you expecting me to follow you?" It was obviously implicative—my gut got a did a double backflip when I tried to imagine what would happen if she _did_ join me in the bath. Sometimes she makes me want to lose all logic in the world.

"Nope." It was a fake glare, but I felt like betraying me. "What I'm saying is wait for me until I finish."

Her reply was always the same. "I am not going anywhere, Ichigo."

"Alright. Good." And I meant it. I really did.

It’s almost funny that one could get so accustomed to her so quickly: a little over 60 hours—and it might sound borderline possessive but I thought that _she_ was—her welfare and her safety, everything—my responsibility. I hated the possible scenario of her vanishing. I despised the idea of her leaving.

I’ve read somewhere that people develop attachment to each other unconsciously, and most of the time there was no apparent logical reason. We weren’t animals who would mate to breed; it was always complicated.

Perhaps one resembled dear family member who’d gone on, or maybe a past fling. Maybe it was all in the face. But people tend to have no control about it. At times it would be irrational.

Like I am with Rukia.

It just… _happened._ It was powerful and overwhelming. Whatever _it_ was.

I only hoped back then that those feelings won’t lead me astray.

I only hoped there won’t be any repercussions or regret, because as we all know, it always comes last.

 

 

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Alright, so this is 27-year-old Ichigo who’s a little bit more mature and a bit more emotionally capable, hurhur. I tweaked his character to be more appropriate compared to my previous iteration on the original story.

Thanks for the support, you IR lovelies who were leaving likes and stuff on all of my accounts, you precious people ;u; Anyway, we have 5 more chapters worth of rewrite and then I could finally move on forward with this story. Stay with me 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so this is 27-year-old Ichigo who’s a little bit more mature and a bit more emotionally capable, hurhur. I tweaked his character to be more appropriate compared to my previous iteration on the original story.  
> Thanks for the support, you IR lovelies who were leaving likes and stuff on all of my accounts, you precious people ;u; Anyway, we have 5 more chapters worth of rewrite and then I could finally move on forward with this story. Stay with me 


	3. Guarded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo starts admitting his feelings to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So I have rewritten the third chapter now, again, I changed some plot elements to make it more fitting and added some major items to lead into the build-ups. Again, this is a slice-of-life kind of fic, but there's more to Rukia's mystery.

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_I don't care if it seems wrong._

_I don't care if it looks rushed._

_I don't care if it's crazy._

_What I care about… is her._

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She's mysterious and all. Compare her to an abstract painting, if you will. At first you cannot make out the details, but you would see yourself appreciating it more as you discover more things about it. And then you would be craving for more and more, looking closer and closer to see the finest lines, the smallest of strokes.

Don't get me wrong though—not all things I find out about her is exactly ideal. Nobody is perfect after all.

But still, it's Rukia… And Rukia's…  _Rukia._

Do you even get what I mean?

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**Session 3: Guarded**

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Rukia was the first thing that I saw on the corridor leading to my clinic.

It was all effortless: her dark tresses heavily contrasted with the white backdrop of the wall she was leaning against, and it made the milky skin on her neck stand out even more. I always thought that my type was different, you know those tall, curvy types that made men swoon. But this woman… she demanded attention without knowing it. From her stance down to the smallest movements of her lips while sucking on the end of a consumed ice pop, and with just that she stirred my rather  _healthy_  imagination.

I cleared my throat to drive away my thoughts and she lifted her gaze from her feet to my face in response.

"Oi, doctor. Took you long enough."

"Those are for my kid patients, y'know. Can't eat it as you wish."

"Come on, Ichigo. Just this once." She pulled out the lollipop stick from her mouth and wagged it before chucking it into the trash box at her side. Rukia's eyes went brighter as she ran a look from my head to toe as if in appraisal, and then reached out to me to tug on my sleeve.

"I can't believe you're this old and you don't know how to do this shit." I realized she was fixing the folds of my dress shirt and did it more neatly than earlier.

"Amazing, smidge. Don't you know this is  _very_ domestic? Aren't you very domestic to me?" It was meant to be a tease. The smaller figure chuckled in response, mumbling something like  _dummy something something moron_  under her breath, and then took a step back with a finger on her chin.

"Hey, you look good on this. Pink button-down, denims, a fluffy pair of blue slippers and scowl that looks very well on your chiseled face…"

Then she took an effort of straining her legs to tiptoe—just to mock-punch me on the cheek.

"You're a doctor everyone has the hots for. Except maybe  _me_."

_Ah, this woman._

Rukia should consider herself lucky for ending up in my place, I decided. I wasn't just getting possessive. If she behaves like this in front of another person with low self-restraint, then she'd surely be in trouble. No amount of judo would protect her from wild, rabid  _animals_  out there.

And I thank all of that is holy for not making that happen.

"Shut up. I don't have the hots for you either." I cringed away in faux disgust, although I might have been lying. She started laughing heartily—one of the few times that she lets her guard down completely—and it made her more fascinating.

But that's just sometimes. And by that I mean just a fraction of a second.

Whenever I noticed it, she immediately snaps back to her unpredictable, unfathomable state. She does it in perfect timing. Every. Single. Time.

She stopped laughing when I darted a glare towards her direction, both her hands which were covering her mouth fell limply to her side and there was a ghost of an expression in her face that I couldn't identify.

"Really? You don't?"

I dragged my eyes off her and focused on something else. "Yeah, I don't. So shut up. Why do  _you_  care?"

I went for the Claude Monet painting on the wall opposite her... but… I could tell she wasn't ready to let it go. Ignoring her, by the way, felt like an itch. Try as you may to not pay attention to her but the itch would just get worse.

From my peripheral, I saw her quietly walk towards me, only to stop a foot away. Without looking I knew her stare was trying to pierce me, like she was digging deep into my thoughts, and then spoke her prophetic statement.

"It's alright. People aren't born ready."

I fought so hard to not tell her anything.  _Yet._

Things were getting physical, and I was trying to not give anything away to not appear indecent. It wasn't all sexual. I wasn't trying to get into her pants as soon as I can. I was genuinely  _interested_ in Rukia, but I didn't want her to get the wrong idea.

I didn't even know why we were getting to that point or why my opinion mattered. I was under the impression that all the touching, the kissing, didn't matter to her. That it was just casual like everybody does these days.

Before I could give a coherent answer, the doorbell rang—my first patient of the day.

By the time I brought back my attention to her, Rukia had already retreated elsewhere.

.

.

.

After my three-hour session with Hanatarou, I discovered that my other patients were already at the waiting lounge.

There were eight of them, six were my regulars: Omaeda, Hisagi, Kira, Inoue, old man Sasakibe and his nurse Isane… The other two had just placed their appointments the day before, a child with a tacky name called Wonderweiss and an  _enormous_ dude who introduced himself later on as Yammy.

What surprised me is that another certain someone was wearing the bright pink apron that my sister left ages ago, someone who busied herself with offering candies and other whatnots to the patients.

And you guessed it right.

My new, unpaid, mysterious receptionist was Rukia.

I found myself with a smile as I silently watched her, thanking her inside my mind for the effort that she was giving. She looked sincere as she grinned on my patients, especially on Inoue. However, my grin turned into grimace as I noticed the males (except Sasakibe, since he's sort of forgetful already) were looking at her with slightly pink faces and mouths formed into 'O's. Omaeda was actually holding his hand out like he was waiting for a an opportunity to squeeze something.

Damned perverts.

"Ehrm,. Omaeda-san, are you there already?" I called out to him immediately, not wanting him to get the chance to get his hands into  _anything_.

When he came forward, he still had his eyes on Rukia—he even grabbed a cookie from her plate. How I wished he would trip and bash his head on the floor already.

"Oh, come here you big oaf." I said irritably without thinking. He stopped and looked at me inquisitively.

"What did you just say, doctor?"

"I said that's a  _big oat_ cookie, Omaeda-san." I grunted, then I stepped out and shoved him inside the room. "Now, now, let's start."

Before I went in I saw that Rukia was talking to Inoue and quite oblivious to all the ogling earlier. Fortunately, Kira and Hisagi were still looking at me, and I gave the best glare that I could muster. Well, if there's something that every person needs to learn, the ought to  _not_ mess with their shrink or any person related to their health care. Or it will get pretty ugly real quick.

.

.

The day went on more easily and more peacefully, with Rukia's aid. At lunch time, she knocked and halted my torturing—counseling—of Omaeda for a while just to bring in my lunch. When it's Hisagi's turn, she went in to bring tea and milk; in Kira's she brought re-heated cookies.

Actually, even though her  _services_ meant that my refrigerator and cupboard are losing their contents more frequently, I am somewhat smug. Especially when Isane asked something when I was giving prescriptions to old man Sasakibe.

"Ano… Kurosaki-san, who's the  _girl_?"

"Oh." A question like that was expected—I mean, it's the first time they saw someone else in the clinic. "That's Rukia. My… ah… _receptionist._ "

"Hmmm, okay…"

My head bobbed automatically towards her seat, noticing her tone. "What is it, Isane-san?"

She smiled timidly. "I thought she is your girlfriend or something. You look good together despite some notable differences."

"Oh no. You got it wrong." I forced myself to sound hoarse. Her words actually made it hard for me to prevent the twitching on the corners of my mouth all day, because my lips wanted to disobey me again and smile eternally.

But of course I couldn't. Because I look good with a scowl on, according to a certain someone.

When it was Inoue's turn, I was about to talk to Rukia and tell her to rest already. However, I looked around and she was gone. Yammy and Wonderweiss weren't around either. There was a bit of anxiety in me, although I was convincing myself that Rukia could take care of herself.

"Ano… Kurosaki-kun…" I was snapped out of my thoughts when Inoue greeted me. As much as I want to look around for Rukia, I had a patient waiting, and my profession was almost always the first thing on my list.  _Almost._

"Ah, Inoue. Let's go." I motioned for her to come in the room, while my eyes travelled around for the last time, hoping that Rukia was just lurking out of my line of sight. But she wasn't, and I sighed.

Where could she have gone this time?

.

.

.

At last, I bid goodbye to Inoue. It was 7PM already, the clock and my stomach both said in alarm.

First things first though. I dashed upstairs to search for Rukia. The apron unceremoniously chucked on a chair on the second floor, the plate of cookies was on the table. Painstakingly, I slowed down my pace when I was on the stairs to the third floor. My heart was thumping a bit faster than normal and my hand was sweaty against the doorknob of my room.

Two questions were always there when she disappears. A) What do I do when she's not there? B) What do I do when she  _is_  there.

It was the second question that came to fruition. I couldn't help but felt relieved when I saw Rukia sitting on my bed, in front of the television, wearing a new set of clothes and… her hair wet and framing her face. She seemed to notice my arrival even before she saw me. She smirked and waved a hand towards my direction.

"What's up, doctor?"

"What's up your face." I sighed, before leaning on the jamb. "Hey, er… thanks. I really appreciate your help earlier."

Eyes till glued to the TV, she shook her head. Rukia's attention seems to be drawn to the commercial with lots of bunnies on it. "It's nothing. You're letting me stay here for free."

"Oh yeah." I said, wondering about her lack of response. She was less  _hostile_  and there was less enthusiasm in her voice. PMS maybe? Was she sick?

"Oi, Rukia. Is there a problem?"

"Nope."

"Then why are you like that?"

She rolled her eyes and finally looked at me. "What? Lacking response? No, not really. I was just thinking. Thanks for interrupting my train of thoughts."

I pressed on, now my arms over my chest. "About what? Murdering me?"

" Would I get your properties if I kill you?"

"Wh-! You were really thinking of killing me?"

Her laugh tinkled against the ambient sounds. "Hey, Inoue's pretty." She stared at me like she was expecting an answer but rolled her eyes again as I kept my silence. Rukia held out her arms in my direction, her finger pointing at me like I was guilty of something.

"I was pointing out, Kurosaki, that your patient has the hots for you but you are so dense to notice."

There she goes again about finding me a girlfriend. Clearly, I am not the one who is missing the point. "Shut up, bird-brain. Do you even realize what you're getting at?"

"Yeah. It's a brilliant suggestion. Why not date her? She's pretty and curvaceous, very heartwarming too. I wanna hug her to be honest."

"Dammit," I was guessing that my frown was deepening further after my grunt. "She's fine, but that's…"

How do you phrase it? It wasn't illegal per se, but a little bit low on morals.

Just to be clear, not all patients of mine were horribly crazy (like, suffering from dementia, schizophrenia, or bipolar disorders), but the thing is, most of them are…  _different._

Some would have severe anxieties, denial, or extreme phobias. Yeah, I remember one patient that had  _vestiphobia._ It is an irrational fear of wearing clothes. Then try to imagine going out with that person—or any person whose weaknesses are all laid out in front of you. You were supposed to help them, not to take advantage of them.

The point is, the whole thing was…

"Monstrously repulsive." I finally came up with a term to perfectly describe the situation.

Her grin widened unashamedly. "So you don't like dating patients?"

"You don't seem...disappointed." I narrowed my eyes, then sent her another glare as I was reminded of another important thing. "And please, don't try to make relationships for me. It's annoying."

"Ah. So you're stuck with me?"

"Yeah—" I paused when I choked mildly. "I mean no!"

"So you want other women—"

"No!"

"—so just me—"

"No!"

"—so you want me and other—"

"Hell no! I'm just…! Happy as it is!"

I slapped my hand in my forehead whilst slightly panting, non-existent ringing making a buzz in my ears from the sudden shouting. When I recovered from my outburst, Rukia was already in front of me with her lips pressed together.

"I was just messing around." A finger prodded me on the chest, her amethyst eyes wide and somewhat _glittery_. I realized she as giving me the  _shoujo_  eyes. "Idiot… Your patience needs a professional intervention."

My shoulders fell further. She was right—although she's the only one that could rile me up this much. "You keep on annoying me, it's unbelievable."

"Hah. Speak for yourself, Ichigo."

I liked how she breathes my name out, how she plays with it in her tongue.

I very much would like to kiss her right then and there, unfortunately my stomach heaved an enormous growl that broke whatever tension was forming between us. Much to my chagrin, I was subjected once more to endless teasing by the woman.

.

.

.

There was total darkness when I opened my eyes. I reached out but touched nothing. The silence was deafening me and it felt very suffocating. Terrifying. It was then that I saw  _her._

"Icchi-kun…" The child emerged from the blackness, her eyes were almost glowing as she stared. Tears were pooling in them as she approached, her hand held out as if she was expecting me to pull her in.

"Wh-Who the hell are you?" I shouted back but I found myself moving in. The details were slowly getting clearer; the dress she wore had bloodstains on it—even on her skin. The contrast was eerie and haunting, but I was getting the feeling that I knew who she was. A forgotten memory… a lost friend…?

The child stopped walking when she was a foot away. Her tiny hands touched my face and cradled it as if I was more fragile. "Help me…Please."

"How…?" My heart was aching and I couldn't breathe; I realized I was sobbing. My entire body was shaking while she watched, and everything shifted around me until finally the light broke through.

I was on a garden now. There were sunflowers everywhere, children running on the background. It was a scene that was mildly familiar, although I cannot pinpoint yet where I've seen it. Maybe a movie, or a novel that I've read somewhere.

The child still was holding me in what little grasp she had. At first I thought she had gotten taller—but no—it was me who turned shorter. I looked down and realized I was wearing the same clothes when  _that thing_ happened. I was back in my lost years, in my teens.

"What's your name?" The child shook her head at my question. "How old are you?"

"You… don't remember, Icchi-kun?" Her voice hit me with immeasurable loneliness and guilt. She knew me, yet I didn't have a clue to who she was. The child started tearing up again, repeating the same words like a mantra.

"Help me… Help me."

The space around us warped again; it was as if time was being rewound and we were being swallowed again by the wicked shadows. I tried to hug the child but hands appeared and dragged her away. She was shouting, thrashing, and I was screaming in frustration before I could get to her. I suddenly recalled her name.

"No! Come back! I remember!" But she was gone, I could only hear her pained wailing. When there was nothing left but me in the void, a cold hand gripped my shoulder and pulled me back.

"N-no! What about her! The child!" There was no sense in fighting it back. I was clearly heartbroken.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help… Yukio! YUKIO!"

.

.

.

A stinging in my cheek prompted me to break free of the gloom—a couple of blinks and then I was back in my room. Rukia was hovering atop me, my body between her legs, her hand raised in a pre-emptive strike.

 _I was dreaming._ Which was a surprise, everything felt raw and realistic.

"Do you need another slap?" She screeched in anger. Her eyes said otherwise. "Are you okay?!"

Was I okay? It was a weird dream and I still couldn't breathe properly. However, with the concern that she was giving me, everything strangely felt better. All I needed was a look at her face. I was starting to depend on Rukia like she was some sort of therapy of my own kind.

"I guess…?"

"Who's Yukio? You kept on shouting that name in the middle of the night! I thought you were dying!"

"I don't know."

Yukio… That was the child's name, but I still couldn't recall where I met her. To be honest, I couldn't remember much back then, back when mom had the accident. I learned later on that it was selective amnesia-my brain tried to cope up with grief and it blocked out important details that were related to a traumatic experience. Perhaps she was of importance. Perhaps I  _needed_  to look for her. Perhaps not.

"...It was kind of a nightmare." Words aren't enough to describe the strange pain that was eating me up. "Yukio might be a part of mom's memories...which I forgot... It's from way back. Urgh..."

"...Don't talk, dumbass." I thought she was going to slap me again but her stance relaxed and instead she left her palm to rest on my cheek. It was warmer than usual. And with her being this close, I could indulge myself with her sweet scent that was filling my lungs.

"You don't need to tell me everything." Her face drew nearer with her brows gathered at the center. "As long as you're alright."

I nodded and ran a hand to her shoulder down to her touch, giving it a light press.

"Yeah. I am."

The next thing I was aware of was that our kisses were greedy against each other.

I pulled her hastily, and she crashed into me. Everything was in a blur. My hands roamed everywhere that they wanted to and she breathed sharply against my kiss with every touch. The softness on her skin was enough to drive me insane—on her thighs, on her back, on her neck. Her small moans played music in my ears. Her lean figure felt breaking with the urgency, but the way her nails dug into my skin as we kissed told me otherwise.

Rukia, rukia, rukia... I was calling her name in my mind, repeating it as if I was afraid that I would forget her like I did with Yukio.

"Ichigo…" She finally breathed out when I pinned her down, nibbling at her neck. Rukia called me back to reality; and when I did, I saw the state of mess and undress that we were in.

It made me ponder whether to take the chance, but going by her expression, we both knew we were playing with fire. Defeating my own desires, I helped her shift beside me on the bed while never breaking the connection with our stares.

She spoke first after some minutes of silence, and perhaps deep contemplation of what we were doing with ourselves.

"I might have to consider sleeping in your closet now." It seemed like she was seriously considering it, which I found funny.

"You're a dummy." I sent a poke to her forehead and for a moment I thought I saw the same look that I saw in Yukio's face. A heavily masked solitude, a soul searching for some much-needed help. It was only a dream, but I couldn't afford for it to happen in real life.

"Hey, just stay with me, midget. Here."

I patted the bed cockily for emphasis. Rukia didn't say anything, but she moved closer to snuggle against my chest.

That kind of answer was enough, I decided.

.

.

.

End.

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**Author's Note:**

> Alright, tell me what you think afterwards? I tweaked some things from the original story posted at [fanfic.net](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7569219/1/Psychotherapy)


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